Lara Croft and the Temple of the Last Goodbyes
by EndlessDaze
Summary: Lara is at home, 'resting'. She's so bored, she winds up researching an old legend online, and jets off to the jungle to look for the Dragon Heart. r/r Chapter two is here, I'm sure you were all gagging for it ;)
1. Brand New Adventure

_Lara Croft and the Temple of the Last Goodbyes_

Thick silence hung over Tomb Raider, Lara Croft, as she slid her hand into the dark chasm. Her slender fingers closed around the bread, and pulled it out.  
She smiled at her over active imagination, and headed for the fridge - intent on making a sandwich.  
She had been at home for two months, taking a forced holiday from her adventuring. It was unnerving, being stuck at home with only Winston for company. She was restless, lonely and unsatisfied.  
She had given the butler the day off, sickened by his constant pottering. She sighed, and picked up her sandwich.  
"I'm bored," she said aloud, taking a bite. She mused over ringing a friend, but realised suddenly that however many people liked her, and were amicable with her, none of them were really her friends. Most of them were only interested in her wealth, or worse her body. Lara was beginning to feel sorry for herself, there was no one to participate in being bored, lazy and slobbish with.  
Daytime television offered no relief. It was clear the person who wrote it was even less intelligent than those who watched it, and Lara had found three plot holes in the opening sequence of a soap opera earlier that day.  
Clad in a pair of loose jogging trousers, and an old black tank top, she padded in mismatched socks upstairs, towards her 'office'. Her barely used office, with the shiny new computer in it. Her waist length hair was loose - that laziness again - and she had to lift it out of the way before she sat on it and ripped most of it out.  
It only took her a minute to find her way on the Internet. She keyed her name into a search engine, and found several articles. Much of the publicity wasn't positive, and her title of 'Tomb Raider' was burned as thievery in most of them. She sat munching her sandwich, non-plussed. Eventually, she was tired of reading of her soiled reputation and tried a few new keywords.  
At last, she stumbled upon something that interested her. The page itself was murder to navigate, and it was covered in teenage angst, as well as ridiculous graphics, but it mentioned a legend. Lara knew there was always something in folklore, something had to start a story like that.

_I have no idea if this is real or anything but i read it on another site (i forgot the URL!!).  
I think it's true._

_Years ago, like hundreds or thousands, there was a place that no man knew about. Dragons lived there. (Geez, who wouldn't see a dragon?!) Well anyway, some priest who's name I forgot too was out walking, when he found the secret place. The two dragons who lived there were in love, and wehn the priest guy killed the male one, the girl's heart broke. It turned into a precious stone, and formed two pieces. They are lost in some freaky temple in Brazil or something..._

Lara scanned the rest, and found no more decent information. She couldn't believe she was checking this out of the whim of a fourteen year old 'goth', who spent her time poisoning Geocities with her depression.  
She knew the dragons were probably made up, but the stones might not be. It wouldn't be the first time a crazed idiot had forged a valuable jewel and hidden it somewhere in a temple to keep it safe. She surfed for hours, and finally located the temple. It was in Brazil, somewhere in the middle of the jungle. Just the way she liked it.  
An hour later, after surfing about three hundred websites - Lara had already decided she was going to check this temple out. Usually, she wasn't so impulsive, and she was less than willing to admit that it was a childish fascination with the romance in the legend that was driving her. She was Lara Croft! She didn't need romance, she had tombs and men that had been dead four thousand years, and what could be better?

*********************************************************************

The jeep bounced over rough terrain, causing the native driving to curse in his own language, which he assumed Lara didn't speak. She looked down her nose, over her sunglasses at him. He didn't seem to care whether she was offended or not, and continued to curse all the way to the temple.  
Lara groaned as they pulled up beside a similar vehicle - this was supposed to be for her, and this guy looked so equipped to go into the temple that he could barely stand.  
"Hello," she said icily.  
The man had his head buried in a trunk. At the sound of Lara's voice, he slowly removed his blond head, and turned to glare at her with piercing blue eyes. Clearly, he thought some silly English woman had come to bother him on his quest. Whatever he was going to say to her never made it out of his mouth, as recognition swept over him visibly.  
"Lara Croft?" he grinned, sticking out a hand. "I was just reading about you,"  
"Thief, lunatic and grave robber?" guessed Lara, shaking his hand.  
"Hero of the modern day world," he blushed. "I'm Michael Ryley."  
"Nice to meet you. Mind if I ask why you're here?"   
"It's my first..."  
"Raid?" Lara filled in the blanks, realising what a novice he was.  
"Yeah, I figured this was a nice obscure way to start."  
Lara eyed him quizzically. He was out here all alone, with apparently no experience at all and he had some of the strangest looking tools Lara had ever seen. All she ever carried was the one backpack, and in it she managed to store a sleeping bag, various armaments and food.  
"Well... If you don't mind me saying," began Lara carefully, side stepping him and approaching his car. "You've got too much here, and you should leave some of it."  
"You think? I thought 'be prepared'..."  
"Be prepared, not totally submerged," corrected Lara. "How were you planning on getting this stuff around in there? Once you go in you can't just duck in and out as you please, Mr. Ryley."  
"I..." he failed to think of a way. "Well, would you mind helping me pick some stuff to take?" he flashed her a grin that could have melted a heart of stone.  
"I suppose," she shrugged, fidgetting. She stuck her hands into the back pockets of her shorts, and looked absently into the trunk.  
"The tools are a bit much," she murmured. Eventually she picked out an empty bag, and put in his sleeping bag, a flashlight, his camera and a few small digging tools. She found a long twine of rope, and added it as a last thought.  
"That's it?" he spluttered, blinking at her.  
"Along with any food, and water you have," Lara nodded. She had a feeling he might want a little more help from her, and she didn't particularly feel like giving it.  
"I might see you in there," she called non-commitally. 


	2. Twists and Turns

**Thanks to those who reviewed the first chapter, even though some of the grammar in there was nasty :D.**

The temple was possibly in the most disrepair of all Lara's 'adventures'. Everything was crumbly, and it was - unfortunately - blatantly obvious where she had been.  
"Bugger," she hissed as she tried to pull herself on to a ledge, and landed on her backside in the sand.  
"Very graceful, Lady Croft," she mimicked some of her superiors. "Ease off that sherry, old girl,"  
Carefully, she clambered and slid across the ledge, feeling self conscious even though she was alone. An alien sound in the still, humid environment mad her pause.  
Click, whir, snap. Click, whir, snap.  
That fool was somewhere nearby, and he was taking photos. Lara groaned, she had hoped he would have broken a nail and given up by now.  
She decided just to ignore him. He might not see her anyway, she was wedged in a crack she doubted the original architect had ever intended to exist.  
When she reached the end of her makeshift passage, she lit a small flare to check what she was about to jump into.  
"Ah," she sighed. A forty foot drop on to concrete paving. Vines snaked across the wall below her, and she wondered briefly the wisdom in trusting them to hold her weight. It didn't take long for her to slide out of the crack and begin feverishly climbing down. The plant creaked in protest, and at last Lara's luck ran out. A vine snapped beneath her foot, and she fell that last fifteen feet or so to the ground.  
It took a few minutes for Lara to refocus, and when she did at last manage to sit up, her head was spinning.  
"Ow," she muttered angrily. Crumbly temples and stone floors. What a way to start an adventure. Blood trickled from her forehead on to her face, though she quickly surmised that it was only a small cut. Her knees were grazed and stinging, but it seemed - save a few bruises - that she was no worse for wear.  
A large, round stone tablet jutted out from the ground in the center of the room.  
The runes on it were difficult to understand, especially by the light of Lara's torch.  
"What do they say?"  
Lara cringed. Michael Ryley's voice was the last thing she wanted to hear. She would have preferred the sound of the temple collapsing, or gunshots to him at that moment.  
"Roughly the same legend that surrounds the whole place," shrugged Lara. "It names this temple as the Temple of Lost Love, or the Temple of the Last Goodbyes, and it says - _not to touch that!"_ Lara lunged at Michael, grabbing his wrist. As she was talking, he had been inspecting the nearby 'furniture' as it were, and had reached for a small silver gem encrusted in a statue of a human hand.  
"Oh come on," sniffed Michael. "It didn't say 'don't touch my hand', did it?"  
"Not in as many words. Don't touch it."   
Michael held up his hands in submission, and stepped back from Lara. She folded her arms, and bit down on her lower lip - thinking.  
Michael slowly reached for his camera, and snapped a picture of her as she was trying to suss out an exit.  
"Did you just take a _picture _of me?" she growled, glaring at him.  
"Well, it was cute," he shrugged, grinning.  
"I am not cute, and you do not_ suddenly_ decide to photograph me," she pulled one of her pistols from it's holster and aimed at him experimentally. "Clear?"  
"Crystal," gulped Michael, staring down the barrel at her.  
"You wimp," she said snidely, marching around the tablet towards a heavily decorated door.  
Michael watched her go, unwilling to risk following her even though he knew it was the only way out of this tomb. Lara inspected the door for a moment.  
It looked as though it hadn't budged for decades. She jumped back as - of their own accord - the doors swung open. Lara glanced around frantically, and scowled at Michael, who was standing innocently near a small switch.  
"Sorry," he said. "I was always taught that it was good manners to open doors for a _lady_."  
Lara didn't respond, she was not part of this annoying little man's team, and she wasn't going to work with him. She strode through the door, pistol still in her hand.  
However, Michael's sudden screaming brought her straight back. He was lying on the ground, at the mercy of a snake which had clearly already bitten him once.  
Disregarding any respect she had for endangered species, Lara shot the beast until it had nearly more bullets than bones.  
"You're becoming more_ bother_ than you're _worth_," said Lara spitefully, tossing the heavy snake away.  
"Shut up," panted Michael. "That thing was _poisonous_, God, it hurts...!"  
Lara slid a small knife from her pocket, and slit open his trouser leg. Sure enough, his ankle was blackened and swollen.  
"Shit," muttered Lara, she had a few med kits in her bag, but none were really equipped for deadly snake venom. She slid off her backpack, and snatched a roll of gauze from inside. Quickly, she tied it above the wound to stop the poison spreading any further into the blood stream.  
"Hold still..." she gagged, Lara had only ever seen this done in a cheesy American television series, and she hoped it would work this time.  
She covered the bite with her mouth, and sucked. Her mouth filled with a vile taste, and she was careful not to swallow any of it.  
"Ugh," she spat the venom out, gagging and coughing.  
She repeated the process, until at last the wound became yellow, and finally red. Unfortunately, it was still effecting Michael and only time would tell if he would live, or so Lara guessed. Bollocks.  
She needed water, and there were no pools to be seen. Lara resorted to using her supply of drinking water, as Michael mumbled deliriously through his fever.  
"I bet you were taking a picture of that snake," she said, glaring at him as she loosened the buttons of his collar, and made up a cool compress for his forehead. "I was _not _meant to be a nursemaid,"   
Lara complained amicably, more to keep herself company (and from worrying, though she'd never admit it) as she sat crosslegged nearby.  
"I don't suck just anyone's ankles," she bantered, giggling at herself and wondering if the venom was effecting her too.

Dust, sand, and bitter cold. The one thing Lara enjoyed least of all was waking up in a tomb, especially since she had fallen asleep without her sleeping bag.  
"Bloody hell," she cursed, rubbing her goosebumped arms.  
She eyed her patient for a moment. He looked a little too still for her liking. Panic rose in her throat, though she tried to swallow it back as she moved stiffly towards him.  
"Mr. Ryley?" she lifted his wrist. Stone cold. Her fingers twisted around to check for a pulse.  
"Christ, it's freezing,"   
Lara nearly jumped out of her skin as Michael sat up abruptly.  
"You - bastard," she hopped back from him, still crouching. Michael laughed at her.  
"Scared the shit out of ya," he said childishly.  
"How are you feeling?" Lara tried to calm herself.  
"Wonderful," said Michael. "Wait, actually - freezing, stiff, and I can't for the life of me feel my foot."  
"Oh, I had to amputate it," lied Lara, reeling in the pleasure she got from seeing him frantically check.   
"In spite of your recent cruelty, Miss Croft," began Michael primly. "Thank you. For saving my life."  
"You're welcome," replied Lara.  
"Because you don't suck just anyone's ankles," finished Michael, laughing at her. "Well, just because my brain was out of commission doesn't mean my _ears_ were!"  
Lara didn't dignify his apparent hilarity at her with a response. Instead, she stood up and stretched.  
"Don't you dare," she snapped, as Michael reached for his camera.  
"Sorry," he grinned impishly. Clearly, ten hours asleep in the freezing cold had worked wonders for his condition.  
Michael removed Lara's original bandage, and looked at the two tiny scabs on his ankle. It still hurt, but no more than a normal cut or a graze would. Lara had wandered to the forgotten doorway, still open. She had left her bag near Michael, and he noticed her disgarded - and empty - water flask beside it.  
"Croft," he called, watching her frown at being addressed purely by her last name.  
"If you're going to address me, Mr. Ryley," she said as she returned to him. "You can call me Lara,"  
"Oh, first names now is it? This relationship is moving rather fast, don't you think?" teased Michael.  
"Mr. Ryley - "  
"Michael."  
"Michael," she started again. "We don't have a relationship. I'm an _archaeologist_, and _you_ are some sort of arsehole."  
"Lara, that was uncalled for," Michael didn't react to her warning tone. "And since there's no water around, and we're too far in to go back out, you're stuck with me until we find a place you can refill."  
Lara took in this information, wishing she'd thought before just pouring her water everywhere. Still, she consoled herself, it was an emergency. And, you saved a man's life. However annoying and pathetic he is.  
"Alright," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "But only until I find some water, and then you're on your own. And don't take any more pictures of me."  
"Agreed," Michael grinned, and stood up - testing his ankle. He found that it supported him fairly well, considering the condition he had been in the night before. He picked up Lara's things, and put them back in her bag, resisting the urge to comment on her wide supply of arms and ammo.  
Lara slid the straps over her shoulders. "Come on,"

By mid afternoon the heat was unbearable, and they had drank half of Michael's water between them. Winding passages had led them for miles, and there had been little more than spiders to reward them.  
"How do you do this?" whined Michael. "It's supposed to be exciting, and fast-paced. If I'd known I would end up in tiny holes, I would have found a less obscure career."  
"It takes patience," replied Lara, brushing the dust off of her legs. "The rewards outweigh the boredom."  
"They better," griped Michael.  
Lara paused, eyeing a broken off lever on the ceiling. "What do you think?" she asked, nodding at it.  
"You're the expert," sighed Michael moodily. He was bored, and acting like a child because of it.  
"Yes, I am," concluded Lara, moving ahead. Empty chambers caked in flakey, dry mud.  
"Up there," Michael pointed to a high ledge. "Think we can make it?"  
"I don't know about you," shrugged Lara. "But I can."  
With that, she vaulted neatly on to the ledge.  
"What's up there?" Michael wasn't willing to jeopardize his body after his last dice with death. Lara was already up there, she could just tell him.  
"Something that shouldn't be," said Lara uneasily.  
"What do you mean?"

Lara wrung her hands together, checking every angle before picking up the shotgun. It was covered in dust, and it was an older model. They were in no danger, but it sent chills down her spine that someone would just leave this here. Ignoring Michael's caterwauling from below, she hopped over a ledge, and fell with a scream into a room deeper than she had thought it would be.  
"Lara?" Michael sounded worried, she noted evilly. She was alright, again simply bruised and grazed. He didn't need to know that yet though.   
Lara picked her way daintily through smashed vases that had fallen from the shelf long before she had, and froze at the sight of the skeleton before her. It was dressed in clothes designed for exploring, and in it's outstretched hand - rather dramatic, Lara thought - was a diary, dusty and cracked open.   
"LARA?" She could hear Michael clawing his way in to the room now.   
"Yes, yes I'm fine," she called, waving him away.  
"You're what? You're supposed to be in some sorta mortal danger!" Michael glared over the shelf at her.  
"And you'll dash in and save me, Michael?" teased Lara as she lifted the diary. The pages were crisp with age, ready to flake and disappear at the slightest touch.  
"What have you got?" he sighed, relaxing.   
"A diary or journal of some sort," shrugged Lara. "It seems we're not alone,"  
"What do you mean?" Michael's guard raised. "Is there someone else in here with us?"  
"Not quite," Lara laughed shortly at him. "He's dead. Whatever he was looking for killed him,"  
"Trouble," surmised Michael, clambering over the shelf and dropping into the room.  
"Very profound," Lara rolled her eyes. She paused, and then flashed him a grin. "Do you hear that?"  
Michael listened. "The natives, laughing quietly at us?"  
"No, idiot," sighed Lara. "Water, there's a stream nearby." She stood up, wandering towards the sound, and leafing through the diary as she went.

_One half of the stone has been stolen from us, _Lara sure knew how to pick pages. _A group of men in masks - _Lara was getting sick of masked men - _accosted the Beta Troup. Most are dead, and I am fatally injured. The other half remains hidden in the temple. Hopefully, both I and the stone will be recovered before it is too late._

Lara pondered this, wondering suddenly why Michael wasn't pestering her for details.  
Click. Whirr. Snap.  
Lara glared at him, and he - unsuccessfully - tried to make it look as though he had been photographing something marvellous on the wall.  
"Sorry," he sighed. "I can't help it,"  
"Yes you can. Stop putting the device to your face and pressing the button whilst it's pointed at me," said Lara pointedly.   
Michael sighed, and looked her over wistfully. Lara was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, stuck in an empty tomb with a horny photographer at her side.   
"Keep moving," she thrust the diary into her bag, glad that they would soon have enough water to part ways before Michael started thinking she was his for the taking.   
The pair walked in silence, and at last it was plain that the water was just over the next jump. Lara leapt first, and splashed into a freezing cold pool, too deep to see the bed. Michael, hearing the splash only a fraction too late, landed practically on top of Lara in the water.  
"Shit," he groaned.   
"I can see a lever," Lara gestured. "I bet it would lower the water." She dove beneath the waves, and resurfaced at the switch. It was rusty, and difficult about budging. When it did, water began to pour in from the ceiling.   
"Way to go!" yelled Michael, floundering beneath an onslaught of cold liquid.  
"I'll try to stop it," returned Lara, and forced the lever back down. Seemingly, this served to anger the spirits further. A strong current swept through, dragging Lara and Michael towards a gap. The ceiling was racing in to meet them, and there was barely any time left before they would be holding their breaths.  
Struggling underwater was proving their most fruitless activity yet, and Lara knew she couldn't hold her breath for very long. Not long enough to survive this little adventure beneath the waves, anyway.  
She passed through the open grate, and looked frantically at the surface - there was still a ceiling on it. not even a centimetre for air and the current was still pushing strong. As she was about to pass out, Lara felt Michael cover her mouth with his. This was a ridiculous time to start getting fresh, she thought, her brain already half way to giving up. Her lungs suddenly filled with air, and she realised what he was doing. They were going to have to breathe for each other until they found a way out of this mess. Grudgingly, Lara hooked one arm around his neck, and used the other to navigate the currents. 

To be continued...

A lil underwater making out never hurt anyone, ne? )   
And yeah, it is my first fic... so be gentle! 


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